Whatever She Needs
by mellifluous cloud
Summary: He was surprised to feel a wave of anxiety, one that he hadn't felt since he walked these same halls two decades earlier. He was not a hormone-crazed teenage boy - so why did he feel like one whenever Darcy was around? Darcy/Snake, spoilers up to 705.
1. Helpless

**Title**: Whatever She Needs  
**Author**: mellifluous cloud  
**Disclaimer**: This is for non-profit entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.  
**A/N**: This story contains spoilers up to 7x05, "Death or Glory (Part 1)." You may not want to read if you haven't seen that episode. Though I was heavily inspired by The N's preview for what's to come in season 7, I will not include other spoilers. I suspect that my story will venture down a far different path from canon, anyway.

**CHAPTER ONE**

Innocently. That was how it began. She would linger in the classroom for a few moments after the bell rang, waiting until everyone else had left. Usually she would say nothing: just a pointed look or a gracious smile. He returned the silent gesture so she'd remember the promise he intended to keep. "I'm here for you. Whatever you need." Then she'd avert her gaze and quickly leave the room. Snake found himself wondering if she regretted confiding in him to begin with. It was obvious that she never intended to do so.

This went on for a couple weeks, and then she ignored him. She jumped out of her seat when the bell rang and ran out of class with the rest of the students. No more discreet glances. At first he was relieved. He wouldn't miss the awkward pauses; he had enough of those at home.

Then Snake was surprised to feel something else: resentment. Her behavior confirmed that she had no desire to confide in him any further. The fact that Darcy had chosen him as the one person she could trust was no fact at all. More accurately, it was a mistake.

He hated feeling helpless. He hated feeling unwanted and discarded. Psychologically, it sent him spiraling back twenty years to the gawky teenager who let everyone take advantage of him, who always offered a shoulder to lean on until his friends realized that he was more useful as a doormat. Snake knew these feelings were selfish and useless. He didn't blame Darcy. Not with what she was going through. He knew that he couldn't confront her; it wasn't his place. Still, he resented her for pulling him in and so rapidly pushing him out when all he wanted to do was help alleviate her pain. But what could a 34-year-old man—a computer teacher, for crying out loud—possibly know about being seventeen, vulnerable, and recently raped?

He was the last person she should have told. No wonder she avoided him now.

A month passed since her confession and Snake wanted so badly to ask her how she was doing; he wanted, for one more fleeting moment, to be a source of comfort. Instead he sat back and did nothing. He played the game. All he could do was hope that she had talked things through with Ms. Sauve, that she was moving on, that she was better.

She wasn't.

So he was surprised to find her standing on his doorstep exactly thirty-six days since the moment she decided to include him in her world—not that he had been keeping count. He stared at her incredulously, not knowing what to say.

"Can I come in?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

"Darcy, it's almost midnight and my wife just went to bed. I know that I said I was here for you, but you can't just show up at my house whenever you feel like it, especially after you haven't said a word to me in over a month. I'm sorry, but whatever it is, it's going to have to wait until tomorrow after school. Goodnight."

That was what he should have said. Instead he opened the door wider and wordlessly motioned for her to enter.

She walked timidly into the living room and observed her surroundings before sitting down hesitantly on one end of the couch. He watched her apprehensively before approaching, choosing the opposite end. It mirrored exactly that first day when he asked her if he could sit. And just like they had done then, they sat, in silence.

She spoke first. "I haven't been able to tell Ms. Sauve."

"Oh," he said dumbly.

"Mr. Simpson, I don't know why, but you're the only one I can talk to," she admitted.

"I'm honored," he began, trying to choose his words carefully, "but you've barely said a word to me since the day you told me you were…" He didn't want to say it.

"I know." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I was embarrassed or something. I don't know." She fidgeted in her seat. "And apparently I'm still embarrassed. I should just go," she said abruptly, jumping up. "I knew this was a stupid idea—"

"Darcy, wait!" Snake cried out helplessly. She was at the door already, but she stopped and turned. He didn't know what to say. Why was this so hard? She looked at him a moment longer and brought her hand to the doorknob. "I just think—we should…" he spluttered, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that would stop her from walking out the door. "You need to let me help. Let me in."

Her hand dropped to her side and she met his gaze. He hardly realized he was holding his breath. "What can I do?" she asked, her voice shaking on the words. "How am I supposed to get past this?"

He ran his hand nervously through his thinning hair, wondering if correct answers to those questions even existed. "I just don't think you should be keeping everything bottled up inside. I think we need to have a real conversation."

"All I want to do is forget," Darcy said. "I don't want to relive it. Talking will bring it back."

"But if you don't want to talk, why did you come here?" Snake pressed.

She looked down at her shoes. "I really have to go," she said quickly, and ran out the door without glancing back. He stood in the doorway and stared into the dark night long after her shadowy figure disappeared, trying to process what the hell had just happened. Finally he closed the door.


	2. Inevitability

**CHAPTER TWO**

Snake was shocked to find her waiting on the steps of Degrassi at 6 a.m. the following day.

"I have to admit, I was expecting another several weeks of silence. Or possibly an eternity," he joked. His relief at seeing her was immediately overcome by feelings of embarrassment and idiocy when he realized that she wasn't there for him. "And I'm officially clueless," he continued. "You must be waiting for Peter. Sorry." He hastily continued up the steps in a desperate attempt not to prolong another awkward encounter.

"I'm not waiting for Peter," she called after him. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, waiting. She was looking at her shoes again.

"And so you're waiting for… Manny?" She shook her head and he felt a smile playing on his lips, but fought to hide it. "Maybe Derek or Danny?" Snake wanted to conceal the delicious feeling of confidence that had suddenly overcome him, mainly because he wasn't quite sure why it had.

"You know I can't stand Derek or Danny. They got me in detention, remember?" She actually smiled.

"No, I remember you getting _yourself_ in detention," Snake grinned.

"_No_, I ended up in detention because a certain teacher of mine wouldn't listen to my side of the story," she retaliated playfully.

"Hmm. Wow. That guy sounds like a real jerk," Snake admitted, hoping it still sounded like he was joking around, but realizing suddenly that he wasn't. He partly believed it himself.

"He's not," Darcy said softly. There was an awkward pause, apparently an inevitability whenever the two of them came within a ten-foot radius of each other. "Besides," she added, "I hear he's willing to listen to me now."

Snake was stunned, and could think of nothing else but to nod. They walked in silence to his classroom. He was surprised to feel a wave of anxiety, one that he hadn't felt since he walked these same halls two decades earlier. Hesitantly he sat down at his desk, she at hers. He was not a hormone-crazed teenage boy—so why did he feel like one whenever Darcy was around?

Snake shrugged it off. He was just nervous. He hadn't been this nervous about anything since he was in high school, but the causes of that feeling versus this feeling were completely different. This situation was just new territory for him, and it was terrifying, and that was all. He certainly wasn't about to adopt the unorthodox teaching practices of former colleague Matt Oleander. _Why am I even thinking about that? _he wondered, making a face. He didn't realize Darcy was staring at him.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"What? No," Snake answered quickly. "Sorry, I uh, I just realized that I don't think my breakfast agreed with me," he added. He immediately cringed, wondering why, of all the possible excuses, that particular one had come to mind.

Now it was Darcy's turn to make a face. "Oh. Uh… do you need to go to the bathroom or something?"

"No! I'm fine." Snake laughed uncomfortably, internally berating himself for increasing the already-suffocating tension tenfold.

Darcy offered a smile. "Good."

"Good," Snake repeated.

He expected them to resume their typical awkward silence, their eyes grilling into each other until she would freak out and jump up and leave, but instead, she spoke.

"I need to confess something," she said. He waited. "I never intended to tell you about this." Snake opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. "But I don't mean that in a _bad _way. I don't regret telling you." He clamped his mouth shut, signaling that it was okay for her to continue. "I just want you to know that… this is probably going to be weird. Weirder than it is already. And I know that I'm supposed to be confiding in Ms. Sauve, and I know that you never wanted to be dragged into all this, but for some unknown reason, telling you made sense." She paused, and he opened his mouth again, but then she abruptly added—"I guess I also thought that if I told you, you'd make it better."

"Why would you think that?" Snake asked, truly confused.

"I don't know," Darcy admitted. "There's so much going around in my head right now and none of it, I mean none of it, makes any sense. I haven't felt like myself… in months." Snake said nothing, not because he hoped it was the correct approach, but because he still had no idea what he was supposed to say. "It's like—every morning, I wake up so early, because sleep is just too terrifying. I haven't had a good night's sleep since… it happened. And then I take these super long showers, like forty-five minutes, so long that my mom has yelled at me a few times to get out."

Snake nodded. "You want to wash it off," he said. It wasn't the world's most brilliant observation, but it was a start.

"I guess. But no matter how hard I try, it's still _there_. I still remember it, but like, in broken images… these dark, horrifying flashing images… and how bad he smelled, and how he pushed me onto the bed—"

"Darcy—" Snake interrupted, fearful of where this was going.

"What? Can't handle it?" she demanded sarcastically, the anger growing in her eyes. "I'm telling you what happened _in words_," she continued, practically seething. "How do you think it was _actually experiencing it?_" Her voice was shrill now, and loud. Her entire face was red.

Snake sat in silence, too afraid to say anything that would upset her any more. To think, she had been foolish enough to believe that he could help—what a joke, he realized. And then his earlier prediction came true. She leapt up and darted out of the room, leaving him alone and useless and drained in an empty, silent classroom.

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. This was going to be much harder than he had ever anticipated.


	3. Distraction

A/N: Special thanks to JudyArlene for her support and encouragement. Everyone go search for her Darcy/Snake video on YouTube—it's incredible (not to mention inspiring!).

**CHAPTER THREE**

Another week passed, and Snake's everyday routines were now defined by distraction and discomfort. He taught while his mind wandered, suddenly struggling to remember how he had presented the same material just an hour earlier—what once came naturally had become forced and stilted. It must have been painful for everyone involved.

Normally when something was bothering him, Snake would push it out of his mind and repress it to the depths of his subconscious; he had a gift for moving on. To hide his fear of cancer, he shaved his head. After cheating on Spike, he sang to her in a mall. Snake had the ability to make light of any situation, no matter how serious. He never obsessed over anything.

It drove him crazy that Darcy was the exception.

He assumed that she would transfer out of his class, but she stayed. This mystified him. She even participated in lessons: she'd raise her hand and ask questions, she'd smile politely and say "Bye, Mr. Simpson, have a good day," on her way out the door, and if she managed to meet his gaze, he saw only the same look of faint recognition and respect that he saw in the eyes of all his students. Somehow this was worse than silence. When she hadn't been speaking to him, when she ignored and avoided him and cast her eyes downward, at least there had been a reason. At least he had known that anger and fear and sadness and self-doubt were all driving that behavior. Now it seemed that she had stopped feeling, period.

So Snake set aside his hopes of being the hero. He could be the smart, funny, dorky, endearing high school computer teacher, but rescuing Darcy was officially out of the question. Things would go back to how they had always been. He never had a problem with it before, so why now?

And yet, inexplicably, Darcy consumed his thoughts to the point of inappropriateness. Every time she smiled or made a kind, but ultimately impersonal remark, he felt himself growing more impatient and frustrated. One tortuous week seemed more like an eternity.

Snake lingered in his classroom after school, staying back to catch up on classwork. He had fallen behind because he was so preoccupied lately, but his new routine of working overtime predated Darcy's confession. Simply put, there was no real reason to rush home anymore. Spike hadn't trusted him since his one small screw-up, the idiotic fling with Daphne. It felt like she was never going to forgive him, and every dreary day since reminded him why he had been so tempted to cheat in the first place. It was wrong, and he had learned from his mistake, but now it had been over a year and he was done learning. Everything about that house now—the table between them as they ate dinner or the space between them in the bed at night—was cold and uncaring. Snake had told himself that it would all blow over eventually; now it seemed he'd be waiting eternally.

It was nearly seven when he left. He gritted his teeth in anticipation of the hell Spike would raise when he walked through the front door. Keeping a brisk pace, he made a conscious effort not to think about Darcy, which meant, of course, that she consumed his thoughts completely. And why? He wanted to believe it was because of his responsibility, as an adult and a teacher, to help. He wanted to believe it was because he cared about all of his students, especially one who was in trouble.

He didn't want to believe that it was because he was bored in his life and his marriage, or because he wanted to feel for once in his life that he could make an impact, that he could be a positive force in another person's life instead of just there, like a piece of furniture. He didn't want to believe that it was because he lately felt so unhappy and unwanted. He didn't want to believe it was because he so desperately needed to mean something to someone again.

Snake opened the front door and braced himself for the worst: Spike screaming at him for being late (again) and not calling (again), his dinner cold, Emma's perpetual disappointment and mistrust—instead he stepped inside and found both of them sitting on the couch, glued to the TV.

"Uh, hi," he said, placing his bag on the floor. No response: they must have been really pissed. He threw his arms up in the air. "I'm sorry. I was catching up on work and lost track of time. I should have called." Neither bothered to glance up. Snaked sighed, "I guess I'll go ahead and heat up my dinner…" He began walking towards the kitchen, while turning to look at the TV just to see what the hell was so fascinating that they couldn't bother to acknowledge his existence for a split second. And that's when he saw the headline.

ROOFIE RAPIST IDENTIFIED; WARRANT OUT FOR ARREST. These words were accompanied by a man in his late twenties with an unapologetic smirk and menacing eyes.

Snake's heart sank to his chest. Within seconds, he entered the living room and stood beside the couch, but when and how he had mobilized himself in that direction, he wasn't sure.

"What—what are they saying?" Snake managed to choke out.

"It's just sick," Spike responded, assuming his question either rhetorical or unimportant.

"Oh my god," Emma breathed. "They just said attended several parties at Mount Heron. A bunch of Degrassi students went there a few months ago. That's… that's scary. That's messed up. It could have been one of them."

Snake felt himself retreating, as if he were floating away. The entire house seemed so suffocating now; the walls were closing in, constricting him somehow. "I, um, I need to get some air," he announced breathlessly, heading for the door. He wasn't sure if Spike or Emma heard him or cared. He walked hurriedly, thoughtlessly, aimlessly, even though he knew exactly where he was going; he refused to think about the fact that he was consciously walking in the direction of Darcy's neighborhood. He knew where she lived only because he had picked up Emma at her house a couple times, when it was really late or dark out, like it was right now. She lived about a mile away, so he was on her street in less than twenty minutes.

He didn't know what he was doing.

But there was a bus stop with a bench, and it made sense to sit down, so he did. He sat and covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he could erase the mental image of the rapist's disgusting face. Suddenly he heard footsteps approaching, and he stood up and turned around, already knowing whose figure he would see.

Darcy was walking slowly and staring at the ground. She had a duffle bag strapped over one shoulder. Snake cleared his throat so she'd notice him, and she jumped, jerking her head up to see him.

In one smooth motion, she dropped her bag and ran to him, clinging, wrapping both arms around him and squeezing tight. He reciprocated, fighting back his own tears and she sobbed into his jacket.

"I saw his face on the TV," she said breathlessly.

"Me too," Snake murmured, gently caressing her hair.

"He's still out there."

"I know."

She held tighter, and he let her, and they stayed like that for at least five minutes, maybe longer. She didn't let go until a bus pulled up, at which she stepped back and picked up her bag.

"Come on," she said, grabbing hold of his hand with her smaller, softer one.

He should have refused, he should have talked her out of it, he should have, at the very least, asked where she planned to go and why. But he didn't do any of these things. He realized it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she needed someone, and even if she never meant for it to be him, it _was_ him. She needed him now while everyone else in his life merely assumed that he'd show up eventually.

So he followed, and they sat down together, and when she leaned her head against his chest, Snake wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head so she'd feel more comfortable there. He didn't know where they were going, and he didn't know what would happen, and he did know, completely, that he had crossed well-established boundaries, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It occurred to him then that he needed her just as much as she needed him.


	4. Vanilla

A/N: Thanks again to Judy Arlene for beta-reading and helping me work out a couple plot details.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

She smelled like vanilla. She nestled against him and she smelled like vanilla and he almost hated himself for noticing—for sitting there, for holding her, for breathing her in and for wishing it would never end. His eyes stayed open as she slept; he couldn't remember the last time he felt so alive.

After a while, the ride became bumpy and she stirred awake. "I think we're almost there," she whispered, straightening up. Snake reluctantly removed his arm from where it had encircled her, saying nothing. The bus slowed to a stop and she stood. He followed her down the aisle and out the door, stepping onto an unexpectedly soft dirt road. It was completely dark except for a few small, dim lampposts. They walked along the road in silence before he finally saw a moderately-sized house in the distance. She quickened her pace as it came into view and he took larger steps to keep up. Just as they reached the front walkway, she stopped abruptly, nearly causing him to trip. "This is it," she breathed.

"Where… are we?" he asked hesitantly.

"This—" Darcy said, stepping forward, "—is where I was supposed to be on the night I was raped." Again, she took hold of his hand and led him along the front walkway. As they neared the porch, he caught sight of a wooden sign in the grass: "Welcome to the Divine Harmony Retreat Center."

She reached into her pocket and removed a few keys, fiddling with the lock on the door and speaking abnormally fast. "I was supposed to go on a retreat here with my family, but I lied to my mom and faked a fever so she'd let me stay home, and then I snuck back to school and got on the bus to Mount Heron." She continued rapidly, in fragments, "But my family goes on retreats here all the time; we come here every year, so Father Timothy, he owns the place, a few years ago he gave my family a copy of the house key so we can come here whenever we want, so—"

"Darcy—" Snake interrupted. The door swung open, revealing a dark, empty foyer.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I was waiting for you to freak out and go running back to catch the next bus home."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said.

She looked up at him with a shy smile. "I know this isn't exactly… normal."

He returned the smile. "To be honest, I've had enough of normal."

"Okay," she said softly. They stepped inside and she closed the door. Immediately silence overwhelmed them, but it was no longer the awkward, uncomfortable kind that had so dauntingly characterized their last few encounters. It was pure and peaceful and _right_, which was most likely the opposite of everything it should have been. She was supposed to be home with her family; he was supposed to be putting Jack to bed and gearing up for another passionless night with Spike.

"Shit," he said aloud, utterly breaking the mood. "I'm sorry," he added quickly. "It's just that… well… I need to call my wife."

Her expression turned sullen. "Oh."

"No, I mean, she didn't know where I went and she's going to want to know why I'm not back yet," he explained, feeling flustered and a little ashamed—not because he was about to lie to Spike, but because Darcy suddenly looked so helpless and dejected.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "I guess I'll go upstairs."

"I'll just be a few minutes," he assured her, but she had already turned and headed up the steps. He stood at the base of the staircase for what felt like an eternity, nervously tapping his foot and trying to formulate a logical explanation for why he had disappeared suddenly on a Tuesday night without eating his dinner or saying goodbye. Finally he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed speed dial two. It rang twice before she answered.

"Hi," he said uneasily.

"Archie! Where _are_ you? You said you were going for a walk. What the hell is going on?"

"I'm sorry," he said, adding hurriedly, "Joey called me. He's in Norfolk visiting Wheels and they wanted me to come hang out." He realized he not only sounded like a teenager lying to his mom about his whereabouts, but he felt like one, too.

"So… you're in Norfolk?" She sounded unconvinced.

"Yes," Snake responded, faking conviction.

"And you couldn't stop home for five seconds to tell me that?"

"Well," Snake began, thinking frantically, "it was weird. I got off the phone with Joey, and I was standing right near a bus stop, and—well, the bus came." At least his lies contained a tiny artifact of truth.

"The bus to Norfolk," Spike said slowly, filling in the blanks.

"Yeah. I mean, it seemed like fate, so I hopped on and I'm here now and I was so caught up in the moment that I forgot to call."

"Okay," she said flatly. Her voice showed no hint of emotion; he couldn't tell if she believed him or not.

"I'll take the bus back early before work," he added quickly.

"Okay," she repeated, waiting a beat before asking, "Do you want me to save your dinner for tomorrow?"

Snake blinked, momentarily rendered speechless. "Um, sure. That'd be great," he answered finally.

"All right, I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight," she said.

"Goodnight," Snake replied halfheartedly, flipping his phone shut. He walked absentmindedly up the stairs, finding himself in a long hallway with endless doorways. Darcy poked her head out of one of them and smiled brightly at his arrival, but this soon shifted to a frown.

"What's wrong? What did she say?"

Snake leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling, sighing before finally meeting Darcy's concerned gaze. "She asked me," he said slowly, "if I wanted her to save my dinner for tomorrow." Darcy regarded him thoughtfully, keeping quiet. _And I can't remember the last time she told me she loves me, _he realized.

Wordlessly, Darcy reached out and took hold of his hand, as if it were second nature by now. "Let's go to the meditation room," she said, leading him to the end of the hall and through another doorway. It was large and spacious, furnished with old oversized couches and a worn-out area rug. The walls were lined with bookshelves of Bibles and inspirational literature, and there were two massive windows that probably provided an excess of sunlight during the day. Darcy expertly walked across the dark room and flicked on a few antiquated desk lamps before plopping down at the edge of a couch. Snake followed suit, choosing the recliner next to it.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, a trace of a smile on her face. "I just don't think you should keep this bottled up inside."

Snake smirked at the irony. "Mocking me, are we?"

She grinned, then quickly composed herself and added seriously, "I am willing to listen… if you want to talk about it. Really. Even though I'm just a kid who doesn't know the first thing about marriage."

"You have parents; you know about marriage," Snake corrected her. "And I hate to say it, Darcy," he continued, trying to choose his words carefully, "but I don't think it'd be accurate to say you're just a kid after what you went through."

"I don't even feel like the same person," she admitted.

"I wouldn't expect you to."

They were silent for a moment, and then she announced suddenly, "I broke up with Peter." Snake said nothing, so she continued, "Last week. I could tell he was getting frustrated with me… I didn't want him around anymore. I didn't want to kiss him." Snake's eyes widened, even though he knew by now that he shouldn't be surprised by her openness in sharing personal details. "I don't think he ever really understood me anyway, not before it happened and definitely not after." He could swear she looked at him pointedly then, as if trying to convey the unspoken, and he held her gaze, hoping to prove that he could handle whatever she decided to throw his way.

"It sounds like you made the right decision," he offered. They were silent for a long while.

"Mr. Simpson?" she asked hesitantly. Snake waited. "I think I'm ready to tell you what happened."

And so, for the next hour, she told him everything. She told him how Peter wanted to have sex and she refused, how she decided to drink, how she abandoned her cup and how she passed out on the couch. She told him how she remembered feeling a hand on her shoulder, being thrown on the bed, and the disgusting odor emanating from her rapist's body. She told him how terrified she was to see her clothes in a pile on the floor the following morning, how surprised and confused she was to find Peter asleep beside her. She told him how badly she wanted to convince herself that it was him when she knew it wasn't, and how scared she was now that she had seen his face and knew he was still out there. She told him how she had wanted to die, and how dirty and sinful and guilty she felt, as if she had brought it on herself. "I was supposed to be on retreat," she kept repeating. "I was supposed to be here."

She talked and Snake mostly listened, interjecting a few times to assure her that she was not at fault. And soon it was nearly two a.m., so they turned off the lights and headed back down the long hallway and disappeared behind separate doors to collapse into their single beds. Snake had nearly drifted off to sleep when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I can't be alone tonight," she whispered.

He was at a loss for words. "It's a single bed," he said, realizing immediately how idiotic and insensitive that must have sounded.

"Mr. Simpson, please," she said softly, urgently. "Remember, you said—you said whatever I need."

He couldn't think, and he didn't want to, because rational thought would have stopped him from moving in closer to the wall and lifting the covers for her to enter. Darcy slipped in beside him and Snake draped his arm around her, breathing in. She smelled like vanilla.


	5. Rinse

A/N: Sorry for the delay, but now you get two new chapters! Chapters five and six were originally written as one chapter, but it was so long that I broke it into two and extended both. And I have yet another gift: the first ever (to my knowledge) Darcy/Snake fanmix. You can find it at my fandom journal (link in my profile). Let me know what you think!

**CHAPTER FIVE**

He barely slept. He was far too conscious for sleep: conscious of her scent, of her slow, rhythmic breathing, of how warm she felt pressed against him, of being careful not to move so he wouldn't wake her. He hadn't shared a single bed with anyone since his college girlfriend, and Darcy should not have been the exception. He was especially conscious of that.

When the first hints of sunshine began to peak through the shades of the room's one small window, Snake seized the opportunity to carefully climb over Darcy and out of the tiny bed. He hesitated, watching her and expecting her to wake up; she merely stirred and turned over, snuggling against the blankets. A minute later he found himself in the communal bathroom at the opposite end of the hall, staring wide-eyed into the mirror and hating the person he saw.

He needed to get out.

When he returned to the room to get his shoes, Darcy was sitting up in bed, smiling at him in the way she always did now, that overly-grateful, still-too-innocent smile. "I haven't slept that well in weeks," she said softly, her eyes round and serene. "What time is it?"

"It's almost six," Snake responded quickly, both immediately aware of just how quickly.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Snake stared at her, aghast. "What's wrong? What do you think is wrong?" He didn't give her a chance to respond. "This," he said, waving his arm frantically at the bed, "should not have happened."

"Nothing _did _happen. We just slept," Darcy pointed out.

He shook his head, his mouth forming one of those empty, humorless grins. "That's just it. We shouldn't even have to explain ourselves," he said. "Of course nothing happened. I'm not insane."

Her eyes darkened. "What's that supposed to mean? Am I 'insane'?" Her fingers fluttered in the air briefly, putting air-quotes on the last word.

Snake was certain he was shrinking, physically; he felt that helpless. "Darcy, that's not what I meant."

"You told me that you'd had enough of normal," she added angrily.

He wanted to ask her how she managed to remember all the words he ever said so vividly. Except it wasn't important, and it would have derailed him from the point he so desperately needed to make, even though he didn't mean it. "Maybe you shouldn't take everything I say so literally," he spat, hating himself as the words left his mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes and he stood still, the heartless jerk. "I'm sorry," he added, knowing full-well his apology would do nothing to erase the words already in the air. "I should go," he said weakly.

She looked up at him. "Then go."

Awkwardly, he grabbed his shoes and his bag and treaded down the cold, bare corridor. He was certain he could feel her eyes drilling holes into his back, but when he turned to look, she wasn't there. He was immediately unsure why he expected her to be.

The bus ride back felt longer, of course, and Snake couldn't focus on anything, the images floating by in his window as random, meaningless objects; the order of the universe completely unhinged. He couldn't get rid of the gnawing feelings in his stomach and his heart, the guilt pervading his consciousness to its core. At that moment, he loathed himself. He wanted to peel of his skin and get out of his head; he felt utterly trapped, suffocated by the unwanted layers that defined his existence now, the ones that had become far too heavy to shed.

It was nearly seven when he turned the front doorknob of the house that had never felt like his own: the one he was trained to call home. Spike was sitting at the kitchen table with both hands wrapped around a coffee mug. Snake knew he looked like shit with his wrinkled, slept-in clothes and bloodshot eyes.

"Morning," he said, forcing a smile.

"Hi. Did you have a nice night?" she asked softly. He froze momentarily—did she know? The fabric of his lies could be unraveled so easily, he realized in a panic. One call to Joey and she'd know he was still in Calgary, one call to—he stopped himself, needing to regain composure.

"It was great," Snake said, smiling. "I'm spent. I don't know how I'll be able to teach today."

"You look exhausted," she replied. His heart was pounding again; something didn't seem _right_, but then she added, "Why don't you go shower and I'll make some breakfast?"

He nodded and headed towards the stairs, then stopped himself, walked to the kitchen, bent down and planted a quick kiss on her lips. "Thanks, Christine," he whispered, and she smiled at him, and he thought for a second that maybe it was love that he saw in her eyes; maybe he hadn't been looking hard enough before.

Yet as he showered, the hot water cascading onto his naked body did nothing to rinse away his impure thoughts. His mind was stuck on Darcy, on the silky hair that he had twirled between his fingers all night, on the warmth that had radiated from her body, on the way her slight hand had wrapped so urgently around his. He thought of her shattered smile and the tears that welled in her eyes and the look on her face as he had reluctantly uttered his lies.

The water was growing colder now; Snake reached absentmindedly to readjust the knob. Her eyes. And her smile. And her fair, soft skin and her innocence that did not deserve to be corrupted, especially not by him. That was why he had lied, he reminded himself. He lied so she'd stay away. Besides, he had given all he could possibly give at this point. She told him her story and he listened, and perhaps now she was ready to go talk to Ms. Sauve, who could really help her. He had done everything he could and now the boundaries were drawn once more and they could both move on.

He shut the water off. He dried himself off, put on fresh clothes, went downstairs, and ate his healthy breakfast unceremoniously with Spike in silence. He picked up his bag and kissed her cheek and walked out the door. It should have terrified him—how quickly he fell back into the old routine. There has to be more to life than routine, he remembered saying once. He swore he had said it. Routine and predictability: work, family, work. Perhaps this was his destiny.


	6. Surrender

**CHAPTER SIX**

The school day was markedly unusual, however, because Darcy wasn't there. Her empty desk and unfilled plastic chair were cruel aberrations, mocking him all day. It was almost laughable how Darcy could distract him so easily even when she wasn't actually there. Of course, part of the issue was that he didn't know where she was. Snake had assumed that she would take the next bus home, but now it was abundantly clear that she hadn't done so. He didn't even know what excuse she had given her parents regarding her whereabouts. Had she bothered to give one at all?

It was impossible to concentrate.

When he went home that evening and Spike proudly proclaimed that she would heat up his dinner from the night before, Snake stared at her, dumbfounded, and blurted, "Joey's in Calgary."

She glanced up and raised an eyebrow in confusion. A small laugh escaped her. "Okay. So he got back all right?"

Snake stared blankly, as if he were unable to process what was going on, and Spike's eyes bore into his more urgently, the laughter fading, the suspicion rising, as it always did. "No," he said bluntly, without emotion. "No, I mean… he's been in Calgary. He never left."

She dropped his plate on the table then, the sound startling them both. "Who did you see last night, Archie?" He didn't answer. Instead he shook his head and fought to hide the smile creeping to his lips, because he shouldn't have been smiling in the first place, and none of this should have been happening to begin with, but the fact was that it _was _and he saw no reason to stop it anymore. "Who did you see?" she demanded again, screaming now.

Snake realized that he could have said anything. He could have lied, could have said he was alone, that he just needed a night away. She might have believed it. Instead—inexplicably—he chose to exaggerate the truth. "I was with another woman."

"You—oh my _God_." Rage. Pure rage. Snake noted that it was the most impassioned she had been in months. "Get _out_. Get out, get out, get out!" she shrieked.

Within a span of about ten minutes, Snake collected a small portion of his belongings, packed them into his overnight suitcase, and got out. Joey's couch wasn't option this time, so he went to a hotel and paid for the cheapest room and allowed sleep and relief to wash over him as his head fell upon the unfamiliar pillow. He slept soundly that night and awoke with fleeting, disorganized thoughts of Darcy. She had such an intoxicating effect on him, he might as well have been high: drunk and high and free, finally free.

And best of all, there was no reason to hide it anymore, to hide anything. There was no need to feel ashamed. He marched into the school early that morning with a newfound confidence in his step; it was exhilarating, he felt on top of the world. He knew the feeling would pass; something would happen, he'd see Emma and it'd all come crashing down. He'd have to go back to the house and gather the rest of his things. But for now this was it, this was his reality, and he grinned widely, fearlessly, even flirtatiously when he walked into his classroom to find Darcy sitting at his desk, shifting anxiously in his chair.

"Okay, so, I know you probably don't want to see me—" she stopped short, clearly confused. "Wow. You look happy."

Snake's smile filled his whole face. "I _am_ happy."

Darcy glanced down shyly before lifting her eyes to meet his steady gaze. "Happy to see me?" she asked, somewhat desperately, her cheeks tinged slightly pink.

Snake let his bag fall from his shoulder and sat on the edge of the desk, studying her face, wondering if he could read what lay embedded there, pick apart the damaged pieces. "Yes," he said, his blue eyes locking with her deep brown ones. In them, he could see the heartache and vulnerability, and he saw her, he saw Darcy, but there was something else there, too—he didn't recognize it at first; it had been so long. Then it dawned on him: she saw him, too.

He bit his bottom lip and said, "I left my wife last night. For good."

"Whoa," Darcy said, jumping suddenly out of the chair. "That's… wow. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?" Her words spilled out nervously, and she added, as if she were looking for a confirmation, "That's some non sequitur." She waited, her eyes beseeching his.

"It wasn't really a non sequitur at all," Snake said softly. It was the answer she wanted, and she blushed harder still. "Darcy," he whispered, "I want you to know that I was an idiot yesterday. I never should have said what I said before I left. I didn't mean it. And for that I'm really, truly sorry."

She inched closer to him; he could hardly stand it. "So I can take this… literally?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Snake breathed.

She moved in closer, and said nothing for several moments. Finally she let the forbidden words escape her. "You left your wife… because of me?"

Snake could no longer meet her intense gaze, so he closed his eyes; it was too much for him now. After a long pause, he looked up and nodded slowly. He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Darcy captured his lips in hers, wrapping her small, soft fingers delicately around the back of his neck, pressing harder with wanton desire. He didn't want to move, unwilling to reciprocate but unwilling to pull away, his heart imploring his mind: _Give in. Surrender._

And he did. Parting his lips to deepen the kiss, his senses heightened; he was overwhelmingly aware of her soft tongue massaging his own and the tips of her fingers lightly brushing against his skin, tracing circles just below his hairline. It was strange, this sensation of falling while soaring higher, yet acutely conscious of the inevitable crash to come.


	7. Devious

A/N: Thanks to everyone else who has been kind enough to review my story. The alert emails that I receive after submitting a new chapter always make my day. I apologize for the delay between chapters lately—real life has been pretty hectic, and to top it off, I'm experiencing writer's block. I hope this chapter will still live up to whatever expectations you might have.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"Today we'll be discussing the significance of viral video and the role it plays in media, especially politics." Snake was pacing nervously back and forth across the classroom, but he couldn't stop. Story of his life lately.

"Can anyone"—just then Darcy walked into the room, fashionably late as usual. She cast him a shy smile and he could feel his face heating up. All of this within a split second—"give me a recent example of this?" A few hands shot into the air; from the looks on their faces, no one noticed how flustered he had suddenly become. "Yes, Derek, go ahead."

Snake proceeded to space out completely while Derek was talking, zeroing in on Darcy instead. Absentmindedly, he reached up to touch his lips—they still tasted faintly of her berry-flavored lip gloss—and remembered the kiss from only five hours before. It was Darcy who had finally pulled away—just as he had placed both hands on her slender waist, giving himself wholly over. She chose that moment to end it, fueling his shame and fear. "I'm sorry," he had blurted reflexively.

She had smiled, then, temporarily subduing his paranoia. "Don't be." She leaned in one last time to plant a quick kiss on his lips. Snake had resisted the urge to pull her towards him, wrap his arms around her, prevent her from ever leaving. Seconds later, she was at the door, her bright green bag slung casually over one shoulder. "I'll see you in class later," she had said, turning, flashing a sly grin before stepping out into the hallway.

"Mr. Simpson?" Like that, he was cruelly swept back to the present, and it was Darcy speaking to him yet again.

"Yes?" he said, though in his mind he could have sworn he squeaked.

"What do you want us to do now?" It dawned on him that twenty-five pairs of eyes were staring at him expectantly.

"Well," he began, struggling to keep his cool, "I want you all to start working on your next project, which will involve combining your knowledge of news media and viral video on sites like YouTube. You'll have the rest of the period to brainstorm about what topic you'd like to research." He said all this while trying to make eye contact with each of his students—all except Darcy. It was just too difficult. "If you have any questions, feel free to ask me," he concluded, and sat down at his desk, hiding behind his monitor.

Barely five minutes passed before he sensed footsteps approaching him. "I have a question about the assignment," she stated matter-of-factly. Then, in a much softer tone: "Can I see you after school today?" Snake felt a wave of panic and surveyed the room. Nearly all the students were wearing headphones to hear the sound of their videos, and several of them were chatting with each other at the same time. "Don't _worry_," she whispered, smiling.

"It's in my nature," Snake quietly replied. "You'll get to learn that about me," he added, then internally kicked himself for the deeper implications of his remark. Darcy only continued smiling in that sensual way that could have knocked him over, had he not been sitting already. He motioned to his monitor. "After school, I'm doing that."

Darcy leaned in to see, which wasn't really necessary—and he was certain she knew it, too. Her arm brushed lightly against his and he shivered at the near-contact, wishing her nearer still. "Apartment hunting already?" she asked. He could smell the intoxicating mixture of berry lip gloss and spearmint gum.

"I don't really see any reason to put it off," Snake admitted.

She stepped back to a more respectable distance and eyed him seriously before asking in a low tone, "Can I come with you?"

Snake didn't know how to respond—rather, he knew how he _should _have responded, or would have responded, in another time when his life wasn't flipped completely upside-down, when things were boring, but at least they all made sense. So he nodded, and she smiled and returned to her seat and he tried not to think about the fact that he was finding himself in deeper and deeper. The bell rang shortly after that and he barely noticed; the rest of the day drifted by in a surreal blur, nothing worth a damn: only her.

She was waiting for him in the zen garden after school, and he smiled, remembering that this was how it had all began. "Hey," he said softly, peeking his head through the doorway. "Ready?"

"I don't know if we can just leave together without anyone getting suspicious," she admitted.

"It's okay," he said. "If anyone asks, I'm giving you a ride home." She nodded and they walked together out the front doors of the school, down the steps, and across the parking lot to his car, all the while in total silence.

Snake fumbled with his keys before unlocking both doors, and they sat without saying a word as he started the car and drove down the road. After about a minute he turned onto a side street and drove a little bit further before pulling over and turning off the engine. "Maybe this isn't a good idea," he said.

"Do you want to just give me a ride home?" Darcy asked quietly.

Snake sighed. "No."

They were both silent again. "Do you like me?" Snake didn't answer, gripping the stirring wheel with both hands even though the car was in park and he hadn't restarted the engine. No one had asked him that question since junior high. He turned to face her, keeping silent. "Do you, Mr. Simpson? Because I like you," she said simply. "I like you a lot."

Her words were bizarre, and he couldn't help but comment aloud. "That's just the problem. The words 'I like you' and 'mister' should never be in the same sentence."

Darcy smiled; every time she did now, it seemed to grow more devious. "_Snake_," she said, and he felt the blood rushing to his cheeks once more, "I like you." She paused. "You do like to be called Snake, right?"

Christine had rarely called him Snake—always Archie. Perhaps it made sense that a grown man shouldn't be called Snake, but it defined him somehow, and he _did_ like it. "Yes," he admitted. "It reminds me of when I was young." Back when his future had seemed hopeful and brighter, even within reach.

"You're _not _old," Darcy told him seriously.

A small laugh escaped him. "Thanks! I appreciate the confirmation."

"No, I just mean—"

Snake cut her off. "I know what you mean. We're not going to pretend this problem doesn't exist. I'm thirty-four, you're seventeen—"

"It's seventeen years," Darcy concluded. "What's seventeen years?"

"Well, for starters, it's as long as you've been alive. I'm exactly twice your age."

"It doesn't matter." She reached over then to touch his arm, running her fingers gently down its length and stopping at his hand. He let go of the steering wheel and her palm met his. Their fingers interlocked, smooth skin alternating with weathered and freckled. He rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand. "You never answered my question before," Darcy murmured, looking up at him.

Snake shifted closer and kissed the top of her head, breathing in her shampoo. Then he kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips, lingering there. She squeezed his hand more tightly and he swore he heard a tiny whimper escape her when he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "I like you, too," he said, and pressed his lips to hers once more.


	8. Guilty

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

The enormity of what they were doing didn't hit him until later.

They viewed three apartments that afternoon, and Snake was unimpressed by all. Furthermore, it was hard to concentrate with Darcy standing beside him. He wondered what the landlords were thinking, if anything. That she was his daughter, or his niece, or a distant relative of some kind. Certainly not his… whatever she was. He wasn't exactly sure.

He wondered why he was so concerned and paranoid, anyway. He tried to shake it off. It shouldn't have mattered and it didn't matter. (Except that it did.)

It was dark outside when they left the last apartment and headed towards his car. Snake looked at his watch. "I should probably take you home," he said, almost sadly.

"I guess," Darcy replied quietly. Once they were in the car, she added, with a cunning smile, "I'm glad I got to spend time with you today."

"Me too." It was what he was supposed to say. He felt vaguely nauseous. "Darcy, where do your parents think you are?" he asked.

She sighed. "I don't know." Her tone had grown colder.

"What do you mean?"

Even in the darkness of the car and with his eyes glued to the road, he could see her fold her arms across her chest. "They've stopped asking me questions. They're afraid any little thing could set me off. Suicide watch, remember?" She exhaled loudly.

The headlights of other cars were almost blinding him. He said nothing. It was silent except for the faint hum of the radio.

"What's with the sudden third degree?" she asked defensively. Snake wondered if she was regretting this already. The years between them were becoming clearer to her now. He knew it.

"Parental instincts, I guess," he muttered. This was probably the worst thing he could have said, and he was well aware. It was why he said it.

"Don't give me that," she said. "Stop trying to make me feel guilty."

"If I stop reminding you that I'm older, it's not going to change the fact that I am," Snake said stubbornly.

"Okay, you know what, pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over," she repeated more urgently.

"We're just minutes from your house."

"Snake—"

"Fine." Only because she was using his name again and it sent chills throughout his entire body. She got out of the car once they stopped and he paused for a few seconds before joining her outside. Darcy was leaning against the trunk, rubbing her forearms with both hands to fend off the cold. Snake approached her slowly and leaned carefully against the car, as if it might break. Like everything else.

She smiled, and even in the faint glow of the streetlight he could see the sadness behind it. "Everything seemed so perfect this morning," she said. "And this afternoon."

He kicked nervously at the ground and heard a pebble go flying off into the distance. "Well, reality sets in pretty quick." He wondered if the darkness might devour him whole.

"I thought we already _had _this conversation," she sighed.

"Maybe it's not something that can be solved in one conversation. Or ever," he added. "It's not just that I'm older, Darcy. It's that I'm a parent, and I'm your teacher, and I'm the first adult you confided in… by accident." It scared him to be so honest, but he couldn't stop. "Maybe that's the only reason you have feelings for me."

"What's so wrong with that?" she asked, at once confirming his greatest fear.

"Because," he said slowly, finding it painful to string the words together, "then your feelings aren't real."

"My feelings are _less_ real because you were the one person I could turn to, the one I could trust, the one I felt comfortable telling everything?" Darcy demanded. "Is that really what you think?"

"I don't _know,_" Snake whispered, desperately. Darcy didn't respond. "Earlier today, you said you liked me." He paused. "But do you even know_ why?_" He held his breath and awaited the inevitable silence. He was certain this would end it for good.

He was wrong.

"I like you," she began, speaking slowly and fluidly, "because you wouldn't put up with my crap even though you're the kindest person I know. Because you followed me and sat down beside me when I felt like everyone else in my life was running away. I like you because you're honest, because you ask the right questions and you actually listen. Because you didn't give up on me, and because _you_ found _me_ the other night, without me even having to call and ask. Because you didn't even ask where we were going. You just came."

Her words were spilling rapidly now. "I like you because you held me all night and didn't let go, not even once. The only reason I couldn't leave the house after you did was because I didn't want to leave the bed, because the sheets smelled like you and I wanted to stay there forever. I like you because I couldn't stop thinking about you all day today, because I spent my lunch hour in the library looking at old yearbooks just to get a glimpse into your life. I like you because I want to know everything about you, and it scares me almost to death.

"I like you because you don't even seem to realize how amazing you are. And because I feel queasy and anxious and nervous and like I might throw up whenever I'm around you, but none of that changes the fact that I want the feeling to last forever." She stopped and took a deep breath, staring him square in the eyes. "_That's_ why."

His heart was pounding, and he pulled her towards him just as a car flew down the formerly empty street, exposing them in its headlights. Snake quickly let go.

Darcy smiled shakily. "And I don't care that we have to keep it a secret," she whispered. "It just makes you hotter."

Snake laughed. "I don't think anyone's ever called me hot."

"Not even in high school?" Darcy whistled, and he laughed again.

"Remind me that I owe you a lengthy monologue about why I like you," he said, running his fingers through her hair.

"How 'bout just a sentence or two?" she asked softly, leaning into his chest.

Snake didn't even need to pause to think. "Because I was dead inside. You make me feel alive."

--

A/N: I know, I _know,_ another ridiculously cheesy chapter, but I couldn't help myself. The sneak peek for "Live to Tell" has me DYING here, and they're so unbelievably cute that I just had to reward them with another cute chapter before it all (most likely) goes to hell once the episode airs. I'm both combusting with excitement and terrified out of my mind in anticipation of how TPTB are going to handle this. Degrassi, when will you actually go there?!


	9. Crash

A/N: Schoolwork took over my life for a few weeks, but I'm back. Hope this is worth the wait.

**CHAPTER NINE**

But the inevitable crash did come—harder and faster than either of them expected. Not even monologues and soliloquies of devotion could fend off its eventual arrival. When it finally came, not even the soft mattress on which Snake lay could lessen the blow.

Within five days of their apartment search, he found a new apartment. It was modest: a one-bedroom downtown with a full kitchen and bath, a comfortable living room and small dining area. His bedroom offered a view of the city skyline, and it already felt more like home than Christine's house ever had. But as Snake was carefully arranging a few framed photographs—the Zits; himself, Jack, and Emma; fragments of his unexamined life—it occurred to him that something was missing.

School was different too, subtly distorted and unsettled. He and Darcy perfected the art of discretion during the day—it turned out that Darcy had learned a few lessons in that area from her ex-boyfriend. Despite their efforts, Snake was relentlessly terrified that they'd be found out, that someone would read into the tiniest of glances—stumbled words or jagged breaths. He was so focused on appearing normal that it wore him out. He'd collapse on his new queen-sized mattress late at night and exhale a day's worth of held-in air.

Some nights, Darcy would lie besides him. It was their ritual for nearly a month now. Her parents believed that her social life had improved dramatically, or that she was studying constantly, or whatever they needed to believe to convince themselves that their daughter was healing. These imaginary friends were responsible, too: Snake made a point to have her home before midnight.

It was these moments that Snake appreciated the most—when they seemed almost unbreakable, hidden away from the world and cozy within the freshly painted walls of a home not yet a home. They'd lie in bed together and it wasn't about anything sexual, it was about safety, it was about comfort and honest communication. She nestled in close to him and pressed her small hand against the fabric of his shirt while he absentmindedly stroked her fingers and her arm, and the shadows of scars on her wrist, pressing soft kisses to the top of her head.

"Do you miss them?" she'd ask, because it wasn't about her anymore. It was about him too, and it was about them.

"Yeah," he would whisper, not missing a beat. "I do."

"What do you think will happen?" she'd ask.

"I don't know."

"What do you _want _to happen?" she'd say, and hold her breath from all that it might possibly imply.

He'd be silent, thinking. "Ideally… I'd like to see Jack on weekends. But I know that Spike is going to fight for full custody, and I'm going to let her… because I left." Darcy stirred uneasily, and Snake reflexively drew her in closer, correcting himself—"Because I _had _to leave. Because there was somewhere else I was meant to be."

Darcy would smile. "And what about Emma?"

"Emma…" He'd trail off, wondering if he knew the answer. "She'll forgive, in time. I hope."

That was how it was. The conversation would digress into an impassioned kiss or two, but they'd find themselves in it again eventually, words lucid and flowing, wanting to understand the other completely, never growing tired or bored.

"It's all my fault," she said one night. "I seduced you."

Snake couldn't help laughing. "What!"

"I did!" She was grinning too, her eyes bright and knowing, guiltily enjoying the secret they shared. "I brought you to that retreat house and climbed into bed with you—the _retreat house_. Last I checked, that's the one place you're really _not_ supposed to sin."

Snake smiled and said nothing, because if anything was a sin, it was this. He wasn't religious like Darcy was—the last time he had prayed was just moments before he found out that his cancer was in remission. Since then, he never felt any reason to. He wondered if maybe he should start.

"Do you think what we're doing is a sin?" Darcy asked suddenly.

Snake froze, trying to think of a noncommittal answer that would be as convincing as the obvious _yes_. "Darcy, you know I'm not rel—" he began, but was interrupted by her lips on his, forceful and demanding, her tongue inside his mouth searching for the answers that she knew he couldn't provide.

He felt her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt and he lifted himself, breaking the kiss for just a moment as she pulled it over his head, her hands cool and delicate against his bare chest. His body was responding in ways for which he was still unprepared, and now he _was _praying, hoping to God that she couldn't feel him through his jeans and hers, pressing rudely against her, but he realized that of course she did.

Almost in response, she began trailing kisses down the side of his neck, his collarbone and his shoulders, and suddenly she sat upright. Within seconds, her own shirt lay discarded on the floor.

"What if I stay the night?" she whispered between labored breaths. Snake's eyes widened, absorbing the image of her tiny frame, of smooth tanned skin and small breasts in a light blue bra. She looked so fragile. So _young_. His initial sense of ecstasy suddenly shifted to one of shame.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said, pulling himself up.

She smiled, not getting it. "I _know _you want to," she said, smirking and glancing down meaningfully. Snake said nothing, his embarrassment building. "And so do I."

"Darcy…" Snake shook his head, sighing. "You can't stay."

Again she misunderstood, laughing. "I _can! _It's Friday. My parents think I'm at Manny's. It's not unheard of for me to sleep over," she said, logically.

Avoiding her gaze, he reached down to pick her shirt up off the floor and handed it to her. Her smile disappeared instantly. "I can't let you stay," he said softly.

"I _want _to do this," she repeated, sounding desperate. "Snake, _please_."

He brushed a loose strand of hair out of her fearful eyes and offered a small smile. "No, you don't. Not now. Not yet."

"I'm _not _a virgin," she said defensively, and Snake nearly cringed. "We won't be doing anything I haven't already done."

"You know that what happened to you doesn't count."

"'What happened to me'?" she echoed mockingly, angrily. "_Rape. _I was _raped._"

"Darcy, if we sleep together, and someone like your parents or Ms. Hatzilakos finds out about us, the court is going to see _this _as rape too."

It was one of those things, like anything else—words that are regretted the moment they leave the mouth, and they can never be taken back. Snake knew immediately that it was too harsh, that he had gone too far, that she might never forgive him—and even that he might be better off she never did. As horrible as his statement was, it was true. Her near-bare body just inches away was scaring the crap out of him. Because she _was _so young, and his student, and a rape victim—a rape victim who had yet to tell a single adult about her dilemma except the one with whom she was constantly fooling around.

Tears formed in her eyes and she shook her head violently. Snake reached out to put his hand on her shoulder and she shrunk away from him as he imagined her shrinking still, evaporating right before his eyes. "I can't believe you just said that to me." Her voice was low and devoid of feeling.

Snake couldn't even think of an adequate response. He sat motionless, stunned by his own directness, his words still weighing heavy on them both. "I'm just… not… comfortable with this," he said finally.

Darcy stared blankly at some vibrant nothing on the far end of the room. "Yeah. I got that. You made it pretty clear."

"With _sex,_" Snake clarified. "I didn't mean… it's not that I'm not comfortable with _you_."

Her gaze settled back to him. "Are you sure about that?"

He hesitated, and she knew, and she rightfully got up, pulled her shirt swiftly over her head, and walked across his bedroom and down the hall. He shuddered as he heard the apartment door slammed shut, sending angry waves reverberating back to the bed as he recoiled, tossed and shaken, the mattress proving useless armor against the sudden, violent crash.


	10. Apologies

**CHAPTER TEN**

The apartment was larger when he awoke, and emptier, somehow. All the sounds from outside, the commotion and chatter and screeching of tires slipped through the space above the windowsills and reverberated against the walls and bookshelves and dirty dishes in the sink. All of it stumbled rudely and blindly forward to his ears and into his head and rattled around until it was at once silenced by an unavoidable realization.

He got out of bed and got ready for work.

Dan Hill was singing on the radio when Snake pulled into the parking lot and noticed that the leaves on the trees were lush and green. Maybe everything had meaning.

Classes dragged by, as they usually did at this time of year. It was nearly June. Conversations laced with fantasies of summer and graduation overrode his tedious instructions regarding flash animation and PowerPoint presentations. Free time for "internet research" was extended accordingly. Snake found it as difficult to focus as they did.

Darcy pointedly took extra time packing up her things at the end of his last class, and Snake's eyes followed her every movement. She waited until everyone else had left the room and then walked towards him. He braced himself.

A tiny smile formed on her lips for a moment and then disappeared. "I'm sorry about—"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said.

"Yes, I do. I was… stupid. Really stupid."

"You weren't stupid, Darcy. You were being…"

"Naïve?"

He was going to say _a teenager_, but held back. "I was stupid."

"Why? For letting this happen?"

There was a long silence. "Yes," he said finally. She shook her head and stared at the floor. "Everything happened so fast. I think I need to be alone for a while. And I think you do, too."

"Why?"

"You _know _why."

"Tell me anyway."

"I wouldn't even know how to put it into words," he lied.

"Snake," she whispered, placing her hand over his, "please don't end this just because I screwed up."

He sighed and pulled his hand away, looking around nervously. "A few months, a year from now, you'll think you lost your mind. Relationships like this don't last. Not even in movies and books."

"So? We can be the exception."

"_How?_"

"Because… you saved me," she said sincerely. "Because we make each other better."

"It was an escape from reality, and…"

"And you got out. So now you don't need me."

"No. I didn't say that."

"I'm sorry that you're scared, and I'm sorry that you're stubborn, and I'm sorry for how I acted last night," Darcy said, taking a deep breath. "But I'm not sorry for any of this, and I'm sick of having to say it over and over."

He stood up and began packing his things, turning from her. "You will be."

"Why do you keep saying that? How do you know?"

Snake stopped what he was doing and faced her again, finally admitting in a low voice, "Because I'm sorry for this, for all of it, okay?"

She shook her head, biting her lip. "You're afraid, and you're paranoid, and—"

"Darcy, _I need space_."

"But I _don't. _And I don't _want _space. I want to be as close to you as possible."

He couldn't look at her. "I'm sorry. I think… I think you should go."

"Fine." And she was gone. The door closed and he was alone again, surrounded by colorful walls and computer monitors that had witnessed the entire pitiful conversation. He stood still and tried to feel nothing.

The next day, during the first of many meetings with Ms. Hatzilakos, he found out that Darcy would be taking a leave of absence for the rest of the semester. She would be able to make up her work over the summer and still graduate with the rest of her class the following spring.

"Her parents finally found out the root of her wild behavior lately," Daphne said, leaning forward and lowering her voice. "_She was raped._ Can you believe that? It's terrible. I really feel for the girl."

Snake shook his head in disgust. "This isn't some piece of tawdry gossip. And whatever happened to confidentiality?"

Her eyes widened. "Honestly, Archie, I expected a little more sensitivity from _you_. The rest of us were shocked when we found out."

"Of course it's awful. I just don't think it's any of my business."

She straightened her shoulders in an exaggerated gesture of self-importance before explaining, "I've informed all of Darcy's teachers so they know to be especially empathic of her situation when she returns in the fall." She paused, waiting for Snake to react, but he didn't. "All right, so what did you want to discuss?"

He gripped the ends of the armchairs and held his breath before responding.

Three weeks later, he was the recipient of a greater-than-usual amount of gifts and cards and eloquent farewell speeches. All of the students whom he'd watched grow and transform from prepubescent kids into almost-adults stood before him and said goodbye. They were all moving on to bigger and better—doing what he never could.

Emma approached him after the graduation ceremony and surprised him with a hug. "Jack misses you," she said, then smiled before adding, "and so do I."

"Same," Snake replied, and after a few moments he reluctantly relinquished her embrace. He hesitated before asking, "How's your mom?"

"She's been… surprisingly okay," Emma admitted. "You should talk to her."

"I don't know about that," Snake said.

"Well, you should talk to _me,_" she tried. "More often. Call, email…"

"I will," he promised, and when he smiled he realized it was his first genuine one in weeks.

An hour later, he was back in his apartment and surrounded by sealed boxes. He had just begun packing another when he heard a knock at the door. Snake opened it and Darcy stood before him—a breathing living vision from a dream that he forgot to have.

"Hi," she said, smiling sheepishly and stepping inside.

"Hi," Snake echoed, closing the door.

"I—" she began, but Snake wrapped her in his arms and halted her words with his lips and his tongue, kicking aside boxes and carrying her to his bed. "I love you," she whispered between kisses. "If it makes any difference."

"I love you too," he said, and for a moment they seemed indestructible. Then they broke.

"What's going on?" she asked, eyeing the boxes. "Are you leaving?" She met his gaze again.

Slowly, he nodded. "Tomorrow morning."

"But—why?"

"Darcy, my whole life I've been playing it safe. I never once stepped outside my comfort zone—until you came along. But Degrassi and this town are holding me back. I need to explore for a while. I need to find my own path."

"So—so take me with you," she said, a little too desperately.

"You know I can't. You need to stay, finish school, graduate… and then move on."

"I want to be with you." She reached for his hands.

"I know." He kissed her forehead. "I know."

"Will I never see you again?"

"If this is meant to happen, then we will."

"But you don't believe in fate," she said. He looked away and they were silent for a while. "Can you do one thing for me, before you go?" Snake looked at her again, and she closed her eyes. "I want to know what it's like," she said.

"Darcy—"

"With _you_."

"And your ring? And everything you believe?"

"I think God will forgive me," she said sincerely.

"This," he said, motioning to her and then him, "is the biggest sin of all."

"I want to be a sinner," she said.

"No, you don't."

"Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing has made sense for months. But this, as screwed up as it is, makes sense. _We_ make sense. I know I should be scared out of my mind, but when I'm with you everything feels _right._ It shouldn't, but it does." She inhaled sharply and held his gaze. "I want this."

Snake was still holding his breath when he responded, "It's not going to… erase the past. It might make things worse."

"I'm willing to risk it," she said, and she pulled him towards her.


	11. Touch

A/N: Warning for sexual content.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

He decided to go slowly—so she could change her mind if need be. He started at her neck and gently kissed her skin, absorbed in her perfume. Darcy's nails were already digging into his shoulders and he stopped. "You're nervous," he said.

"Of course I am. So are you." She brought her mouth to his and flicked her tongue across his teeth, reaching for the bottom of his shirt and pulling it towards her, her fingertips dancing across the skin of his back.

"I'll be gentle," he whispered.

"I know."

He undid the first few buttons of her blouse and realized that she wasn't wearing a bra this time. Tiny pink nipples stared back at him, the same color of Darcy's cheeks as she watched him and whispered, "It's okay." He closed his eyes and pressed soft kisses to the skin, his lips creeping closer to an areola before finally capturing her breast in his mouth, the other under his palm. She was breathing hard now, and her chest was rising and falling as he kissed and caressed. He turned his attention to her other breast before traveling up to her lips again, barely hearing when she whimpered his name.

She turned her face away from him and he nibbled her earlobe, shivering as the tips of her fingers traced mysterious shapes on his back. "I can feel you against me," she murmured.

"What?" Snake said, startled, his voice higher than usual and his face flushed.

"Can I?" she asked.

He nodded, and she reached for the fly of his jeans and pulled. Darcy placed both hands on the waistband and he wriggled out, kicking them to the floor, and waiting. He thought she was going to touch him then, but instead she laughed. "Briefs?" she said. "Aren't they kind of… constricting?" He blushed deeper and couldn't think of an adequate explanation, especially since he was pretty sure he had been trying to constrain himself for months. "Your turn," she whispered, guiding his hand to her belt buckle. In one smooth motion, he undid it and soon had her jeans at her ankles, and then on the floor, their clothes in a quickly growing pile.

She was wearing light green panties and he tried not to stare at the clear spot where they were darker, glistening, waiting for him. Hesitantly, he moved his hand up her leg, gently stroking her thigh. Without warning, she reached down and placed her hand on his. "Please," she said. "No one has ever touched me there." She tugged at his fingers with her own and pressed them to the fabric of her panties, the heat and dampness radiating through both sets of fingers. She moaned as his fingers brushed the wettest spot, grazing against her through the fabric.

Slowly, delicately, even now making an effort to give her ample time to stop everything if she wanted, he pulled her panties down and saw, finally, the soft dark curls covering her most guarded region. He slipped her underwear down her legs completely and she shuddered, eyes closed, releasing jagged breaths.

Snake moved his hand slowly up her thigh, hearing her whimper "oh my _god_" when he brought his fingers closer, and the irony was too much and he froze. He sat back and drank in the sight of her completely naked body: eyes shut, lips slightly parted, hands clutching fistfuls of his sheets. She was perfect, beautiful, and he wondered if this was the cruelest punishment of all as he whispered, "I can't do this."

"What?" Darcy nearly shouted, all at once sitting up. Her entire face, like the rest of her, was flushed. Daringly, she reached out and touched the bulge under his briefs, slipping her fingers between the flap in the fabric and he groaned involuntarily, feeling himself hardening still. "But I'm ready," she murmured, staring deep into his eyes with newfound determination, like a flower blooming in the dead of winter.

Snake gently pushed her hand away. "I'm not."

Darcy looked away, and then abruptly pulled the sides of her shirt together across her chest, fumbling with the buttons. "Now I feel even stupider than I felt before," she confessed, and he could see a couple tears caught in her eyelashes. He brushed his thumb gently against her eyelids, freeing them.

"It's my fault," he said. As she reached for her underwear, he internally berated himself, averting his gaze more out of embarrassment than politeness as she redressed.

There was a silence, and then she said, "I wanted you to be my first." Snake looked at her again. She was fully dressed and somehow more naked than before.

"The man you marry will be your first," he said slowly. "Or maybe it will happen sooner. But it can't happen like this, a quick lay on my bed right before I jet out of town. It just can't." She didn't say anything so he reached for his own jeans and stepped into them, waiting.

"Why not?" she asked finally.

"Because… you'd hate me forever. And I'd hate myself even more."

She was quiet and Snake wondered if she hated him already. Then she leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his lips, pressing her palm to his cheek, briefly, before whispering, "Okay." And then she was at the door.

Snake walked towards her, trancelike, and in his mind the image of her standing there staring at him with those too-trusting eyes and trembling smile was already burned in his memory forever. It seemed to have happened long ago.

"So this is it," she said finally, and her words seemed to travel from his ears to the walls and back again. "I'm going to miss you," she said, her voice shaking and the tears already falling down her cheeks. Snake enveloped her in his arms, and she leaned into his chest, steadying herself and settling in.

"We'll see each other again," he promised, even though he wasn't sure if he could keep it. She said nothing and he pressed a kiss to the top of her hair, knowing it inadequate.

"I love you, Darcy," he said as she pulled away, and she smiled and looked down and said nothing, only placing her hand on the doorknob and twisting, opening the door and disappearing behind it, wordlessly, like a ghost. Snake waited a few minutes before peaking behind it, half-hoping she'd still be in the hallway, but she was nowhere to be found, and in many ways, neither was he.


	12. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

The invitation surprised him. At first he felt more than a little unworthy, but finally he supposed that eight years were long enough to heal anything. Still, he felt weird about it. He couldn't bring himself to decide if he should go until the very last minute, at which point he jumped into his car and drove the three hundred miles to Toronto and didn't think about what he would do or say when he got there.

He arrived late and sat quietly in the back. The procession had already started and soon Emma entered his line of vision, radiant in her white dress and practically gliding on air as she floated down the aisle, making it nearly impossible to notice the groom at her side. An outdoor wedding with a feminist twist—Snake smiled at her public defiance of tradition.

The reception was awkward, as he expected, but Spike did acknowledge him even if she failed to hide her obvious shock at his presence. Snake noted that she had a date, but no ring. Then again, he had neither. He decided to refocus his attention; his eyes scanned across the crowd at a sea of mostly unfamiliar faces—Emma's friends from college, coworkers, and just a handful of Degrassi alums that failed to include the one he was looking for.

The sun was setting as the party died down, and he walked leisurely along the road to where his car was parked—wondering, and not wondering. His breath caught when he saw her.

"Found you." She had been leaning against a car that wasn't his and walked towards him now with a bright smile and shining eyes, lovelier than ever. They stood facing each other in the middle of the empty road as pillars newly resilient to whatever forces might try to destroy them this time.

"How did you—"

"Manny mentioned it to me. And I thought… well. Here I am."

Snake stared at her, dumbfounded. "After all these years…"

"Years never mattered to me," she said.

Snake nodded. "You're right."

She studied him more intently, eyes searching. "You look exactly the same," she concluded.

"Less hair." Snake smiled. "More wrinkles." He took a step closer to her and the sun was just dipping into the ground, painting the sky in a wild, fiery haze. "You look beautiful," he added, and this time when she looked away shyly, the silence didn't terrify him.

Finally Darcy looked up again. "So where were you going?"

It was a simple question, but he hesitated. Then he said, "I have no idea."

She smiled and her eyes shone brighter than before. "Let's go."

His heart stirred a little as she reached for his hand and led him towards what he had been waiting his entire life to live.


End file.
